Captain Nobody Read Free

one Guy Wire. He used to be a wimpy librarian, but after he was exposed to radiation from a meteorite, he discovered that he could stretch his arms and fingers and legs into steel wires and do cool things like turn his legs into springs and bounce anywhere he wants to go.”
    â€œSweet!” laughed Cecil.
    â€œHighly commendable.” JJ nodded.
    â€œHighly what ?” Cecil raised an eyebrow. “Lady, sometimes I swear you swallowed a dictionary.”
    JJ taught herself to read at the age of three with the help of a wooden alphabet puzzle and a really big brain. She hasn’t stopped reading ever since.
    â€œâ€˜Commendable’ just means deserving of praise,” JJ explained. “Like Newt’s drawing.”
    â€œWell, I think it deserves a drumroll.” Cecil pulled two drumsticks out of his backpack and did a quick rat-a-tat on the rock where I was sitting.
    Cecil’s dream is to be a drummer, but until his parents break down, get earplugs and buy Cecil a drum set of his own, he’s determined to practice every chance he gets.
    Cecil finished his drum solo with a crash— bish! —and then announced, “Okay, listen up! Does anybody remember what this weekend is?”
    â€œPlease!” I exclaimed. “It’s the weekend of the Big Game.”
    He shook his head. “I’m talking about Sunday.”
    JJ and I shared a shrug.
    â€œHello?” Cecil waved his arms about. “Can anybody say ‘Halloween’?”
    â€œReally?” I said. “This Sunday?”
    Ever since we met in first grade, JJ, Cecil and I have always trick-or-treated together, but I guess I’d been so wrapped up in my brother’s final Big Game that Halloween had slipped my mind.
    â€œY’know what, guys?” JJ twirled a strand of hair around a finger and squidged up her nose. “I’m bored with Halloween.”
    â€œBored with Halloween?” Cecil yelped. “I got two words for you: Free. Candy.”
    â€œOh, c’mon, we’re in fourth grade now,” JJ insisted. “We’ve outgrown candy.”
    â€œNow you’re just talking crazy,” Cecil scoffed.
    That made me laugh; Cecil can always make me laugh.
    â€œAnd besides,” JJ added, “our costumes suck. They always have.”
    We all nodded glumly. See, the three of us have always been forced to wear hand-me-downs. Like her four sisters before her, JJ had been a flamenco dancer twice, a Starbucks countergirl once, and last year she was Jennifer Lopez. Cecil always wears the same old Wolverine mask that his brothers had gotten so much use out of. And the first year we all went trick-or-treating together, my mom completely forgot that it was Halloween, so at the last minute I searched through the stacks of plastic storage bins in our garage until I found Chris’s old cowboy suit. I’ve been a cowboy ever since.
    â€œI refuse to be J. Lo again,” JJ moaned.
    â€œMy Wolverine mask is falling apart,” Cecil griped.
    â€œAnd my cowboy pants have split,” I sighed.
    After a gloomy moment of silence, Cecil looked up. “Y’know what’s wrong with us?”
    â€œI didn’t realize there was something wrong,” I said.
    â€œMe neither,” JJ said. “But if there was, what would it be?”
    Cecil swept his arms to indicate the hundreds of kids at play. “To everybody in this school, we are invisible.”
    â€œI don’t think you actually mean invisible ,” JJ corrected him, “because our bodies do have mass, and they do reflect light.”
    â€œOkay, everybody ignores us, then.” Cecil turned to me. “Doesn’t it bother you how kids are always stepping on us in the hallways, almost like we aren’t there?”
    â€œWe’re both really short,” I suggested.
    â€œAnd, JJ,” Cecil went on, “how does it make you feel when people shove you away from the water